Waiting for Sunrise
by Dead Poet
Summary: Set just after "The Gift." Spike, who's still trying to deal with Buffy's death, gets a bit of pep talk from Dawn. Full of nice fluffy angst. :) Review and I'll give you a cookie!


Rupert Giles frowned as he found himself wishing for the hundredth time that day that he could simply sit down and allow the world to go on without him. Buffy had been buried for a week and he didn't think he would ever get used to life without her. He missed being a part of her everyday routine--training, patrolling, researching, saving the world...He had now fallen into a much more mediocre routine of opening the shop, closing the shop, eating dinner, and trying to sleep at night. Life had begun to seem pointless; what was a watcher without his slayer?  
As he went to unlock the door for the morning, something caught his eye that shook him from his revelry. Lying on the floor just in front of the door was a large, cream-colored, business-size envelope. There was no stamp or return address, only "Giles" written in a small, but neat script.  
He went about the rest of his morning routine for opening the shop, took a seat behind the counter to await any customers, and gazed curiously at the rather thick envelope. He finally grabbed a letter opener, deciding that it was silly to worry about a piece of paper causing him some sort of bodily harm. "I've been living on the Hellmouth too long," he thought with a wry grin, "I can't even open a letter without worrying that it's going to attack me."   
He pulled out a folded sheet of cream-colored stationary and two smaller envelopes, one addressed to "the Scoobies" and the other addressed to Dawn. Growing even more curious, he unfolded the stationary and read:  
  
Giles,   
I'm sure I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just wanted to say a few things. First, I want to offer my condolences. I know what it's like to lose someone you're close to (and I'm not talking about Drusilla; I had a life before I lost my soul).   
Second, I want to assure you that I really do love Buffy, and not just in a sick, twisted physical way. I'm sure you don't believe me, and I know you have no reason to, but I have to say it.   
And last, I want to apologize for everything--for causing you and the Slayer so much trouble, for being such a bloody bastard, mostly for not dying sooner. I'm sorry for failing everyone. I promised Buffy that I would protect Dawn, and I couldn't do that. Maybe if I'd been just a bit faster, or smarter, or pushed myself farther, I could have saved her. And Buffy wouldn't have had to. I failed.   
I hope that someday, though I know I'll never see it, you will bring yourself to believe me and maybe even forgive me. I envy you, Giles. I wish that I could have meant half as much to Buffy as you meant to her.   
  
Spike  
P.S. Make sure the Scoobies read their letter together. I can't imagine them any other way.  
  
"Bloody Hell."  
Giles looked up as the door opened and Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara, and Dawn trudged in.   
"You people certainly have an acute sense of timing," he mumbled.   
Willow gave him a curious look. "What's up?" she asked, noting that he looked a bit concerned.  
"I just received a very...interesting letter," he replied.  
"Not from the Publisher's Clearing House, I assume," Xander commented, stepping forward to take a look.  
"There's also a letter for all of you," he handed it to Xander, "It has been requested by the sender that you all read it together."  
The group gave unanimous frowns as they all took a seat, and listened as Xander read:  
  
Scoobies,  
"Hey, if this is from who I think it is..."  
"Just read Xander."  
I know that I did not give any of you a good first impression and over the years that impression has grown worse. You have had every reason to mistrust me, hate me, and want me dead. You still do. I just want to make one last attempt to convince you all that I truly did love Buffy with all my still, unbeating heart and from the depths of my artificial, plastic soul..   
"Yeah, I was right."  
"SHH!"  
I realize that I am still a soulless monster, but I have changed. All of the remotely good things I did, I did because I love Buffy and I would have done anything to keep her happy and safe. I would die for her.   
"Oh, geeze, can I puke yet?"  
"Xander!"  
I wanted to say something special to each of you and I was going to write each of you separately, but you're all so inseparable that I could only imagine you reading this together.   
  
Anya,   
"That's me! Ooh, he wrote about me!"  
I haven't known you all that long, but you're the one I can relate to the most, being an ex-demon. But you're actually human now; I'm still just a vampire with a chip. I'm just pretending. My humanity is false. I envy you. I wish I could have been just half as human as you.  
"Xander, you said he was evil!"  
"He is, Anya. He's a vampire."  
"But he called me 'human.' Not just an ex-demon. That's nice."  
Xander, of all the Scoobies, I think you probably hated me the most.   
"Dang skippy!"  
I'm sure you probably haven't believed a word of this letter.   
"Nope!"  
I can't say that I blame you. I understand now that every time you bitched me out you were just trying to protect Buffy. I envy you, too. I wish that I could have been half as good at protecting her.  
Xander's reserve of witty retorts suddenly ran dry.  
Tara, I've known you for the least amount of time, but from what I have witnessed during all of our battles with Glory, you are one exceptional person. You haven't known the Scoobies all that long, but you've gladly accepted their struggles as your own. You sacrificed your sanity to keep Dawn safe, and you hadn't known her anywhere near as long as I have. Once again, I envy you. I wish that I could have sacrificed half as much or been half as noble as you.  
The shortage of retorts continued.  
And Willow, of all the Scoobies you've been the most understanding of my recent situation. I realize you still probably hate me, but I thank you for not being as verbal about it as Xander.   
"Hey! ...Well, he's right...But hey!" Xander seemed to be recovering from the shortage.  
As long as I've known Buffy, you've always been there for her. She couldn't have had a truer friend, except maybe Xander. Retort stocks plummeted again. So I envy you, as well. I wish that I could have been half as good a friend to Buffy as you.  
  
Finally, I want to apologize to all of you for being such a royal pain in the arse...and for failing to live up to everything I said. I promised to protect Dawn. I failed. I said I would do anything for Buffy. I would die for her.   
I'm sick of failing.  
So I just wanted to send this to you to apologize and ask for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. And if you cannot find it within yourselves to forgive me, then at least believe me when I say how much I wish things could have ended differently.  
  
Spike  
  
There was a long silence, during which everyone exchanged uncomfortable glances.   
"Did he just say what I think he said?" Willow finally spoke up.  
Xander looked down at the letter as if to confirm it, "I think so, Will. Hmm...That's strange. I should be happier."   
For a long moment everyone lapsed into silence once again. It was Anya who spoke up with her usual lack of tact. "You know, he was really quite strange. Not normal at all, for a vampire anyway."  
"No one ever accused Spike of being normal," Xander replied.  
"But he was really not normal. I mean, he had no soul. Things without souls shouldn't have all those feelings. It's against the rules of nature," she stated, looking quite perplexed.   
Xander was now suffering a full vocal response shortage. It was Giles who rescued the group from a total, uncomfortable silence. "Spike never did follow the rules," he commented quietly, smiling almost fondly. He then removed his glasses and began cleaning them. His smile had faded. "In retrospect, it seems as though we all made a terrible error in judgment. We refused to believe that he was actually being altruistic."   
"So you think the chip really changed him?" Tara asked, speaking up for the first time.  
"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "We always assumed it was just holding him back. Perhaps it did more than that."  
"Like a manufactured soul," Dawn spoke for the first time, her comment causing another thoughtful lapse in conversation.  
"I just don't know how to feel," Willow said quietly after a long silence, "I mean, I know he was a vampire and all and evil... And he's done some truly horrible things in the past, but...I don't know. He fought with us and almost got himself killed for Dawn. That makes it a lot harder to be happy that he dusted himself."  
They all nodded except Dawn, who stood and spoke rather fiercely, "You're all talking like he's already dead. Maybe he's not. And if he's not, then we have to stop him!"  
"Dawn," Willow spoke gently, "He had to have put these letters here last night. He's probably already done it."  
Dawn wanted to argue--began to--but thought better of it, realizing that as much as she hated it, Willow was right. She sighed in defeat; the one person that had really understood her...She wiped furiously at a tear that slid down her cheek.  
"Dawn," Willow placed a hand on her shoulder.  
"I know he was a vampire, and he was evil, but I never saw him like that. He was never anything but good to me. When I found out that I was the key, I felt like I wasn't really human and like everyone was treating me differently, trying to make me feel normal. And I hated it. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did, but Spike was the only one who really understood me and understood that wasn't what I wanted. He always made me feel better about myself."  
This comment successfully completed the depletion of everyone's supply of replies.  
  
*****  
  
She sat in Giles' guest room where she had been staying for the past week and read the letter he had given her...again:  
  
Dawn,   
I just wanted to say I'm sorry and thank you. I'm sorry that I let you down. Buffy asked me to protect you, and I tried my best to honor the promise that I made her to do so. But I failed. Also, I'm sorry for taking you to see that demon when your mum died. This whole mess was my fault. I'm sure it doesn't mean very much coming from me, but I'm sorry.  
And thank you for treating me like a person. You once thanked me for not treating you like a kid. Well, now I'm thanking you for not treating me like the monster that I am. I know that I don't deserve to be treated like anything more. But that's what everyone sees--all blood and fangs. You're the first person I've met who was able to look past all that and see that while it may not beat, I do still have a heart. Thank you.   
I've only met a few people that I really liked. You're one of them, and one of the very few people I've ever met who actually liked me in return--or could tolerate me at all. I'll never forget you. Do the same for me.  
  
Spike  
  
She placed the letter back in its envelope, silent tears falling on the cream-colored parchment. She wished that Buffy could see this, that she could know that Spike really did care and that he really did try to protect her.   
Letter in hand, wiping away her tears, she silently crept out of the guest room, down the hall, and to the door, hoping that Giles was a sound sleeper.  
  
*****  
  
"'You're the first person I've met who was able to look past all that and see that while it may not beat, I do still have a heart,'" she read, sitting before her sister's grave. Taking a moment to reflect on the situation, she found it rather ironic that Buffy must spend the rest of eternity buried here when she had already spent so much of her life patrolling in the very same place, fighting creatures who may well have been buried here at one time. "If you can hear me up there, thanks for asking him to protect me. And if you have any authority up there, maybe you can talk to the Powers That Be. Send him an angel, or something. If you can do anything to stop him...I need him. I know you didn't like him, but this letter and the one he sent to everyone else...He really did care. And I don't want to think that anyone else died because of me."  
She wiped away a bit of dirt--or perhaps it was dust--that had found its way onto the face of the tombstone--Oh God, was that just dust or...  
"Now, what did I tell you about that, Bit? None of this was your fault."  
Dawn turned to see the familiar blonde haired, black clad, chain-smoking, British vampire of whom she had just been concerned that she may be wiping away the dusty remains.  
"Spike?" she whispered, wondering if perhaps she was hallucinating. Did vampires become ghosts?  
"Last time I checked," he answered sarcastically, raising his scarred eyebrow, "Isn't it a bit late for you to be out?"  
"I...needed to talk to someone," she replied quietly, "about this."  
He looked at the letter she held up and frowned, "Oh, yeah, " he said, suddenly turning serious, "That." He turned his gaze away, looking almost guilty.  
"So, since you're still...well...as alive as you ever were, I'm assuming...hoping...you've changed your mind," she looked up at him hopefully, her hope turning to concern as the silence extended.  
"Not at all," he finally answered, "I'm just waiting for sunrise." He flicked away the cigarette he'd been smoking and sat down beside her. For a long while they were both silent, staring at he stone before them, each thinking their own entirely different thoughts about the remarkable woman who lay buried here.   
Finally, Dawn looked up at the demon sitting next to her, "Spike," he looked over at her, the sound of her voice pulling him out of some dark memory, "It's not your fault."  
He shook his head, turning his gaze toward a headless angel a few plots away, "Thanks for trying, Bit, but how can it not be? If I hadn't taken you to that demon after Joyce died--"  
"It wouldn't have mattered," she interrupted him, "He still would have shown up."  
He snorted, "Maybe. But you could have done without me helping him."  
"No. Spike, if you hadn't been there--"  
"Oh yeah, a lot of good I did. I got thrown off a bloody tower. That was my contribution to saving the world," he looked away again, unable to meet her innocent eyes--so much like her sister's...  
"Spike, you slowed that guy down. If it wasn't for you, Buffy never would have made it up there in time."  
She looked up at him, searching for some sign that he was ready to believe her and forgive himself, but she couldn't read his stony expression. At least, for the moment, he wasn't arguing.   
"Dawn," he said at last, returning from another revelry, "I'm a vampire, I've been around for a hundred odd years, and I've done things that...well...Before, I was proud of what I'd done, but this chip...I've finally had the chance to do something good and I still managed to screw up." He suddenly developed an intense interest in studying the ground.  
"You told me once that it doesn't matter how you start out. So maybe all those evil things you did don't matter anymore because of all the good you're trying to do now," she offered, wondering briefly just what it was that he had done.   
He shook his head. "I don't think a few attempted good deeds are going to make up for the stuff that I've done." She frowned at the sound of guilt and regret in his voice. She wished Buffy and the others could hear him now.   
"Maybe not if you were just an average human, but you're a vampire. You're supposed to be evil. But you almost died to protect me, and I know you would have done anything for Buffy. And you did all that without a soul."  
He contemplated this for a moment, "You know, everyone always talks about Angelus, about how horrible it must feel to have a soul and to have done all the evil things that he did. No one ever thinks about what it must feel like to not have a soul and to have done all of the good things that I've done...Not that they were that good...Or that numerous."  
They lapsed back into a pensive silence. "And what does it feel like?" Dawn asked after a moment.  
"I don't know," he replied. "I know by human standards I'm doing the right thing, but I'm not human...Sometimes I wish I was. At least then I might be trusted and...forgiven."  
"That's so sad," Dawn said, looking up at him.  
He smiled down at her, though there was still a sadness in his eyes, "That's what I like about you, Pigeon. Anyone else would have just said, 'Stop whining. After all that you've done, pain and sadness are all you deserve.' You? Somehow you found some sympathy for me. Not sure how, but you did. Thanks."  
"Spike, I know you've done bad things. But I've never witnessed any of that. I've only seen you do good things, and I know that deep down you are good. It might just be because of that chip, but maybe not. Or maybe the 'Powers That Be' had something to do with the chip," she suggested.  
He shook his head and turned his gaze to the distance again.  
"I've never put much stock in the 'Powers That Be' and such. None of those 'great and merciful gods' ever seemed very merciful to me," he bitterly informed her.  
"And yet here you are, sitting in a cemetery, waiting for the sun to rise so that you can leave this world and go on to meet whatever not-so-merciful being awaits you on the other side. As bad as things may seem here, don't you think Hell would be a lot worse?" she asked him bluntly.   
He turned suddenly, somewhat shocked at her sudden lack of subtlety, "This is Hell, Pigeon. I can't imagine anything that could be worse than living without Buffy and knowing that it was my fault that she died. "  
She sprang to her feet suddenly--angry, frustrated tears filling her eyes. Why wouldn't he listen to her!  
"Would you stop blaming yourself!" she screeched, "It is not your fault! When I first found out what I was, I thought that all of these bad things that were happening were my fault. I thought I was some horrible, evil creature. You made me realize that I wasn't. And now, here you are in the same situation, and you won't listen. It is not your fault! Glory killed Buffy, not you, Spike!"  
"Dawn..." he began, standing.  
"NO! Listen to me! You think you've done so many evil things in your existence that no one will care if you just stand here and let yourself burn. Heck, they'll probably be happy, right? Not everyone will be happy if you die, Spike," the tears now streamed down her face, she wiped furiously at them, "Whether you believe it or not, I need you. You are the only person who ever understood what I was going through. You're ready to kill yourself because you screwed up your chance to do something good when there's another opportunity sitting right next to you. If you really want to do some good, then get your brooding, British arse out of here and inside before the sun comes up!"  
He was standing now, staring at her with an expression somewhere between shocked and amused. "Well, you're nothing if not persistent," he told her.   
"And you're stubborn," she countered.  
"And you're...exactly right."  
Dawn, who was just about to launch into another tirade, stopped short. "Huh?" she asked.  
"You're right, OK? How many times do I have to say it?!" He ran a hand through his somewhat disheveled, blonde hair. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I still could've done more. I had to have someone to blame."  
Dawn shook her head. "Blame Glory."  
He smiled. "Gladly."  
Dawn smiled back at him, though her amusement quickly faded back to concern. She glanced at her watch.  
"Spike...It's getting close to sunrise," she told him.  
He looked once again toward the headless angel, to the east she now realized with a slight shudder. He was silent for a long time, and the cold dread in her heart grew colder with each passing moment.  
"I don't want to die, Dawn," he finally spoke, "but I'm afraid to live."  
He grinned at her silence and quizzical expression. "C'mon, Bit. I'll walk you home." 


End file.
